New York, New York
by GeneFlowers
Summary: Bel doesn't receive either of Freddie's letters, but goes to New York anyway chasing a story. There, she bumps into Freddie. For thegingerguineapig on Tumblr. Rating may go up.


**A/N: Felt like writing some fanfic so I asked for a prompt on Tumblr. thegingerguineapig asked for a multi-chapter Hour fic in which Bel did in fact go to America. This is slightly AU in that Bel didn't receive either of Freddie's letters, but ends up going to New York anyway (find out why later!). I hope this is alright, drop me a review and let me know! First paragraph is from my 200 word shuffle drabbles.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hour, or I would drop BBC executives off buildings until they commissioned a third series of The Hour.**

Bel gets out of the yellow cab outside a hotel in Manhattan. She is about to enter, when a loud voice yelling 'Moneypenny!' stops her.

Freddie rushes towards her and stops just short of her bemused expression.

'Hello James,' she says softly. Freddie grins.

'You came!' he says with joy.

'Well...yes,' she says, wondering what he's talking about. She has no time to ponder however, as he is dragging her by her hand down the street.

'Freddie! I was about to check in!' she says, gesturing at her suitcase.

'No need for that. You can come and stay at my place,' he grins happily. He doesn't give her time to argue.

Much later, when they are very slightly drunk and dancing at a jazz club in Downtown New York, Freddie mentions something about a letter.

'What letter?' Bel asks, not sure if she's heard him correctly. He is leaning towards her, much closer than normal, and this is more distracting than she'd really like to admit.

'Oh.' For a moment, Freddie looks crestfallen, but then recovers, spins her around and around, and continues to dance with her. He never holds her as close again, though.

Later, when they arrive back at Freddie's tiny apartment, half-drunk and happy, they make the discovery that there is only one bed, and a rickety old sofa that is barely comfortable enough to spend five minutes sat watching the telly, let alone sleep on. This causes a couple of moments of awkwardness when all Bel wants to do is lie down in the bed and go to sleep, until Freddie says 'I'll take the sofa.'

'Freddie, you can't...that thing doesn't look fit for sitting on, let alone sleeping. Where did you get all this stuff, anyway?'

'It came with the flat,' said Freddie, slightly sheepish.

'Well, first thing tomorrow, we're going furniture shopping.' Freddie grinned at that. 'But seriously, Freddie, you _can't _sleep there.'

'I insist,' he grinned and sat down gingerly on the edge of the barely-padded seat, trying to look chivalrous. Bel shook her head in despair. 'Well, where else would you have me sleep?'

Bel paused at that, chewing her lip. 'Good point.' She would have offered to sleep on the couch instead, but she knew Freddie would insist on her taking the bed in some misplaced idea of chivalry that he had probably learned in a book and for all Bel would complain about it had you asked her, Bel found it utterly endearing. 'Although...I suppose we could...share?'

Freddie looked up slowly, barely daring to meet her eyes. She hadn't received either of his letters; that much was clear. But now, unless he was mistaken, she was asking him to share the little single bed in the box room that also served as a study. Yes, they had been best friends for more than 7 years, and they were comfortable with each other in nearly every situation...he was sure they'd even both be comfortable doing...well...that (Freddie gulps just thinking about it, her skin under his)...if she'd just stop being so stubborn and admit that she felt it too...he saw it every time they got drunk and he'd wax lyrical about where they'd be in 5 years time; together, married, two children (Gilbert and Maud), living in Lucerne, but still doing the job they loved. It was possible. It was all possible. If only she could see it.

But they had never shared a bed before. Not that he'd object to it; he distinctly remembered trying to lie down and sleep in her room at Marnie's parents' house; she was the one who objected. And so he wasn't quite sure how to interpret this, even though he prided himself on knowing Bel better than anyone else. Was it merely an offer to sleep somewhere that might me marginally more comfortable than the sofa? Or...something more?

Freddie realised he'd been quiet for too long, and Bel was looking at him, her gaze questioning. 'Freddie?' she asked, worried she'd said the wrong thing, clearly he'd sent a letter, which she hadn't received, and...something about the way he'd held her close told her that it wasn't just him extolling the virtues of America or his skills as a journalist, but something more...something much, _much _ more important. Bel wished she was brave enough to explain herself, why exactly she had asked him to share the bed, but she was too much of a coward to dive into the myriad reasons behind that, the least of which was that it would be more comfortable and warmer than sleeping on the hard chair.

'Yes.' Freddie said it before Bel could think or ask him anymore, and the tone of his voice seemed to suggest a bigger step in their relationship than two best friends simply sharing a bed for reasons of practicality. Bel took a deep breath.

'Alright,' she said, picking her suitcase up and carrying it into the bedroom. She laid it down on the bed – Christ, it really was small. Trying not to think about it, she unbuckled the case and pulled out her least revealing nightgown. She looked up at Freddie, who was standing in the doorway, just watching her. She felt she should be unnerved, but instead she just felt comforted, as if she were home. God, she had missed him. 'So...er...shall I...?' she stammered, gesturing vaguely to her nightgown and trying not get too caught up in his eyes.

'Erm,' said Freddie, shaking himself of his reverie and trying to think, 'you get changed in here, it's cleaner than the bathroom.' He grinned, attempting (and utterly failing) to look embarrassed at the state of his flat. 'I'll just...er...' He made his way to the chest of drawers (which also doubled for a desk) squeezed into the corner of the room, pulled out a pair of pyjamas and headed to the notorious bathroom.

As Bel was changing she noticed a lamp on the chest of drawers almost identical to the one Freddie had bought her in 1952, except it was grass-green. It made her smile, and she relaxed a bit. Her heart stopped pounding, and settled on just fluttering slightly. Whatever happened tonight was just going to happen. And it would be fine.

In the bathroom, Freddie was coming to much the same decision. When he appeared in the doorway (without bothering to knock, the rude little so-and-so) he was grinning. He looked completely and utterly relaxed, almost nonchalant, which reassured and frustrated Bel in equal measure.

'Bed then, James?' she asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Why, Moneypenny! I thought you'd never ask.' He smiled charmingly, almost roguishly, before pulling back the duvet cover and saying 'After you.'

Bel got in, making every attempt not to roll her eyes. When she rolled over to glare at him through eyes narrow as ravines, Freddie grinned so much that he felt like his smile would fall off her face. Bel lasted for about 5 seconds, then burst into giggles, Freddie joining in almost immediately as he climbed in the other side of the bed (although it was hardly big enough to have two sides, let alone two people).

Bel swivelled to face Freddie, leaning on her elbow. Freddie mirrored her, and suddenly their faces were very close.

'What are we doing, Freddie?' asked Bel, bemused.

'Well, it was _your _idea.'

Bel smiled to herself a little. 'I suppose it was, wasn't it.'

'And you're right; it is much more comfortable than that sofa.'

'I think anything would be comfortable compared to that old thing.' They both laughed at that for a moment, then lapsed into a comfortable silence.

'Goodnight, Freddie,' Bel murmured after a couple of minutes' silence.

''Night, Moneypenny,' Freddie replied sleepily, and for once Bel didn't berate him for using the nickname she was secretly fond of.

They lay listening to each other's breathing for an immeasurable span of time before realising how uncomfortable and awkward their positions were; lying flat on their backs, trying desperately not to touch each other, as if they'd crumble to dust or something if they did.

This is ridiculous, thought Bel, but it was Freddie who made the first move, softly saying Bel's name before turning onto his side and curling up next to her, reaching an arm under her back and tilting her towards him. She carefully laid her head on his chest, relaxing into him as she felt him hum, sighing in pleasure. That was much better.

In the morning, in the morning they would talk. But for now they were just content to fall asleep in each other's arms while the ever wakeful city below buzzed on.


End file.
